I used to love mystery novels,
but now I am playing the detective
in my own life.
I follow the clues
the things I see,
the things which fall between the cracks
and are visible but not.
I follow the scents,
the sounds,
the tastes,
the textures
and all that life offers
as I work my way through
that which I do not know,
do not understand,
and wonder about in my life.
I follow the clues,
I peel back the layers,
I look at things with a magnifying glass,
to make sure I get even the tiniest of clues.
I keep on the case,
until I solve the mystery,
and know I have come
to a deeper understanding,
to a deeper relationship
with the one who sent me
the clues
in the first place.


teaching and learning
are not about what happens
in the classroom.
Teaching and learning
happens in every moment of life.
Everyone I have ever met
no matter for how long
has been a teacher.
Whether I allowed them to teach me or no
was about me.
They were sent to teach me.
Being a teacher has nothing to do with
or lack there of.
I have learned from
the homeless,
the prostitute.
the professor,
the child,
the repairman
the trash man,
the stranger on the street.
The world is my university,
whether I attend and am open to learn or not
is about me.
I am also my own teacher.
The thoughts and feelings
which run through my head,
and bubble up from inside me
are lessons I choose to learn or not;
be taught or not.
Even this poem
as simple as it is,
is teaching me about teaching and learning